


and it's you

by hoshhosh



Category: GOT7
Genre: A few side ships if you squint, Alternative Universe - Mafia, Basically something i wrote to channel my stress, Deception, Guns, Gunshot Wounds, Hospitals, M/M, Mentions of drugs, Sorry Youngjae i love you, That one mafia au nobody asked for, This wont have a happy ending just saying, Time Skips, bc there's organized crime and they deal with drugs and weapons, everybody hurts and nothing is fine, graphic description of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-04
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2018-11-09 03:25:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11095875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoshhosh/pseuds/hoshhosh
Summary: everything is perfect with jaebum - youngjae is happier than he's ever been, even if he knows jaebum keeps secrets. dark secrets, ones that endanger their perfect life. but youngjae tries not to care.Everything is perfect until it isn't.





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello yall, Hoshi here. Welcome to my first official 2Jae piece, and what a better way to start this off than to hurt everyone?
> 
> Don't expect updates to be too fast, but I'm trying my best to get this one over with soon.

the wood of the chair presses into his back uncomfortably, and the rope around his wrists is far too tight, scrapping open the skin a bit more every time he tries as much as to move. the cable binders around his ankles on the other hand are loose enough that he can shift his feet around, but sitting alone in the middle of a hall without any cover near that he could spot with his limited vision, the leeway gains him nothing. his head lolls back and he stares at the ceiling.

 

he should have listened.

 

he can still taste the stale, metallic tang of blood on his tongue, even though the cut on his lip has stopped bleeding long ago, or what feels like it could be long ago in the timelessness of the big hall, and the dried blood from the scraps on his wrists crusts the palm of his hand. he supposes he’s in an old hangar by the height of the ceiling above him, but for all he cares, it could be a luxurious spa and he’d still want to leave. he doesn’t know how long he’s been here, how many days have passed since he last saw anyone that wasn’t his attendant. his personal, caring guard, delivering him a meal two times a day - old bread and dusty water, a piece of cheese if he gets lucky. he had learned to stop complaining after the first fist to the stomach had made him cough up all the food he had just swallowed, leaving him forced to deal with the gnawing hunger tearing at his insides throughout the night. every other day, his host would show up.

 

he should have listened and left.

 

honestly, it was his own fault for winding up here, the warning signs had always been there. the hushed calls way too late at night, the weeks spent without any message, the unexpected trips to “relatives” far out of the city, friendly people in luxurious houses, but never twice the same faces. he’d been there too often not to notice. the box under the floorboard of the closet he wasn’t allowed to open, or the stack of cash money in the empty cereal box in the kitchen. he’d never asked, had never cared, but maybe he should have asked, should have cared, should have left when he had the chance.

 

“good morning, youngjae. nice to see you so chipper and bright this early in the morning. i wish all of my meetings were as friendly as you are… now shall we? you know my question, and you know what i want. where is jaebum?”

 

there he is. youngjae supposes it’s one of these days again, because the man always shows up in intervals, leaving him alone for one day or two between interrogations. to rest or to the torment of his own thoughts, he doesn’t know, and doesn’t want to know. tilting his head to the side, he glances at the other man. ironed suit, grey needle stripes and polished black shoes, a dark blue tie, matching his sea blue eyes that look down on him from under a mob of blond hair in a sharp, angled face. he doesn’t know the guy, no one bothered to introduce him, and why would they. he's only here to answer questions he doesn't have any reply to himself.

 

the man sighs when youngjae yet again doesn't give any answer, stepping around the brunet and placing his hands on youngjaes shoulders. he leans in close, his whisper making every hair on youngjaes body stand up at every puff of air that grazes the shell of his ear. glancing down, youngjae can see the still sorely red knuckles of the other, courtesy of the beating he got the last time his host honoured him with his presence. he feels a grim pleasure knowing he isn’t the only one still dealing with the aftermath.

 

“look, i know you’re only trying to protect him, but this is getting a bit out of hand, my dear. you’ve been here for almost three months now, and no one made an attempt to get you back yet. don’t you think your feelings for jaebum were rather one sided, now that you know how little you mean to him? he isn’t even fighting to get his boyfriend back. if i was you, i’d be furious. it’s okay if you tell me where he is. you won't even have to fear any danger from him… we’ll handle that discreetly.”

 

his voice sounds like honey, thick and deep and pleasant in youngjaes ears, and even if he knows the man is toying with him, he can’t help but feel a pang of anger hit him. it’s true that no one seems to have made any attempt of getting him out of here yet, and it sure feels like he could be sitting here for such long periods of time. he isn’t sure if it’s really been three months yet, but there’s also a handful of times he blacked out temporarily, and he doesn’t know how long he’s been out when he awakes. three months is entirely possible, and the knowledge that he’s still here and jaebum still out there not coming to get him leaves a foul taste in his mouth. betrayal, cold like ice, sitting in the pit of his stomach, next to the raging fire of anger. anger at jaebum for bringing him into this, dragging him into his world, leaving him no choice but to stumble along while never telling him anything.

 

he huffs, and the man stops blowing air against his ear, straightening his back and stepping around youngjae. a smile pushes up the corners of his mouth, and youngjae wants to scream.

 

“i already told you that i don’t know. hell, i couldn't even name you two more of his men. you definitely know more about him than i do if you choose to pick his boyfriend to get information - i wouldn’t even be able to name one of his close friends. i don’t know where he is. sometimes he does that, disappearing for weeks on end without any notice. he never tells me where to.”

 

youngjae can see the smile drop out of the man’s face faster than he can finish his first sentence, and he gives the other credit for waiting until he’s finished his speech before the fist hits his jaw. it’s a bit numbing, but he doesn’t feel the pain by now, rolls his head around, looks at the man. prepares for another hit. it’s not like he can answer anything else anyway.

 

“youngjae,” the other hisses, and youngjae has to resist a sigh. “we’ve been playing this for way too long now. just fucking tell me where jaebum is. i’ll even make your death fast and painless if you do.” he flicks his wrist to the man behind him, and he approaches with a box in his hands.

 

“i swear on every single hair of her fur that coco ever left on my clothes that i don’t know where he is.”

 

“fine,” the man presses out between clenched teeth, turning to take the box from his subordinate. youngjae expects the worst, syringes filled with drugs that will make his blood feel like ice and fire, a new assortment of knives, tongs, nails, rope, or entirely new methods to torture him he can't think of right now. it's nothing close to that, though, and he's surprised when he sees a small black box, connected to a handful of wires. they end somewhere in the bigger box, and he's not sure what the thing is until the blue eyed man takes a few of the wires out of the box. they end in electrodes and one of them in a small clasp and youngjae feels he has an idea what his host is holding when he makes an attempt to stick them to his body and puts one of his fingers in the clasp.

 

“a lie detector?” he asks and can't help the small unbelieving laugh that tumbles over his lips. they're truly thinking he is still lying at this point. if it wasn't for his situation he'd probably be choking on his laughter now. instead, he huffs out some air at the small pinch he feels on his finger and opts for silence.

 

he breaks his own decision just the next second. he sees the man reach behind his back, and suddenly, the loud noise rips through the air like an explosion, catches in his ears, and the pain is incredible. but worse is the pain in his thigh. his jaw drops and a strangled gasp leaves him, a swallowed scream at the sudden fire flaring through him. his instincts try to tell him to curl around the pain, to protect him from further attacks to that point of his body, but he can't, and the jerk that tears at his body only causes more pain in his wrists when he struggles against the restraints.

 

“now listen here, youngjae,” the man hisses, a small, pressed smile on his face as he twirls the gun around his finger. “i’m going to ask you a few questions, you know the deal, and whenever you dare to lie to me-” with this he presses the shaft of the gun into the fresh wound on youngjaes leg, and he can't help the scream of agony that leaves his mouth at the stinging pain. “i will pull the trigger again. if you behave, you'll get out of here alive. otherwise, we'll deliver you to his doorstep, but then, he'll be able to drain his noodles using your holey body, got that? good, a simple question to start this off. the sky is blue, is that right?”

 

youngjae clenches his teeth and forces himself to calm down. after a few deep breaths, he nods, but the man shakes his head and makes a clicking noise with his tongue.

 

“a vocal answer, dear.”

 

“the sky is blue.”

 

“now that's a good boy,” the man all but purrs and wanders a few steps from youngjae, turning his back to the chair and fiddling around with the gun.

 

“the sun is hot?”

 

“it is.”

 

“you're in pain.”

 

“i am”

 

The machine stays silent all the while they play this small game of obvious, easy statements and his answers, but he is glad it only registers the speeding up of his heart, not the what feels like complete stop of it at the last question.

 

“you love im jaebum.”

 

his palms feel sweaty and his throat tight, but he doesn't hesitate.

 

“i don't. “

 

And the machine stays silent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drama rising. what will happen to dear youngjae, now that this bomb went off?


	2. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope everyone can excuse me taking forever, courtesy of a damn writers block being a bitch. some backstory, whoopwhoop.  
> i try my best to catch any mistakes, but if you spot anything, please let me know, i dont bite, i swear i'm actually really soft xD  
> also comments make me ridiculously happy so if u got a sentence or two to spare for me, i'll love and remember you forever.

his chair knocks over before he can notice the other man has made a move, his head hitting the concrete hard. he tries to pick himself off the floor, struggling against the wood of the chair and the cold stone on his arms, but all he manages is to turn himself on his side and painfully crush his left arm under his own weight before the chair is being wrenched up again. a hand roughly tears at his hair and forces him to look at the man through his too long bangs, matted and dirty and crusty with dried blood. the stinging pain over his temple tells him he has a new cut, and sure enough, there’s warmth on his skin, and it’s almost welcome in the cold of the air. the other yanks his head back further when youngjae tries to avert his eyes, and he hisses loudly.

 

“don’t you dare lie to me,” he presses out between clenched teeth, warm breath washing over youngjaes face, and youngjae shakes his head as much as he is possible to.

 

“i’m not. would you love someone who left you in a dirty hole to rot?”

 

blue eyes seems to consider his statement for a second before he lets go of youngjaes hair and steps away, wiping his hands on his expensive looking dress pants. youngjae isn’t exactly sure if he really heard him mumble over the ringing in his ears, but he wants to laugh at the disgusted face the man makes. as if it’s anyone but his fault youngjae looks like this, sitting in a dusty hall without a chance to shower for the last few months. the only reason his wounds haven’t gotten infected so far is due to the quick, hasty wash ups youngjae can manage to get in whenever he’s allowed to use the small toilet room tucked away in one corner of the hall, a small, moldy smelling closet with a crusted mirror over a sink and a rusty toilet. it’s not much, but it does the job, and so far, he’s gone without any bigger infections.

 

“when did you last see jaebum.”

 

it’s not really a question, but youngjaes head still rings, and he’s in no mood to make such close contact with the floor again anytime soon, so he complies, gives an answer he knows he shouldn’t.

 

“he dropped me off at work in the morning before you kidnapped me. told me he had things to do. that he’d come pick me up when my shift ends. you beat him to it. should’ve just waited an hour and you’d never have to waste bullets on me.”

 

he knows he’s leaning too far out the window, risking too much with his choice of words, but he can’t help it, all the bitterness in him boiling high and causing him to spit out the bold words, pretty much asking for the bullet that flies past his arm this time, grazing his arm and tearing the fabric of his beaten, old sweater and the skin underneath. the pain is minimal compared to the first time, so youngjae doesn’t even flinch, looks straight ahead into the muzzle and feels nothing.

 

“don’t be so _sassy_ with me, my dear youngjae. you seem to forget your position. hold back a bit, otherwise i might just think you have a death wish.”

 

“so what if i do,” youngjae drawls, leaning back in his chair. the new wound on his arm burns a bit, he admits, but he’s at a point where he doesn’t care anymore. shooting him would be the nicest thing his host could do at this point, and a small wave of shock floods through youngjae at the realization, muted by his tiredness.

 

he’s ready to die, wishes for it even.

 

he’s given up the hopes that jaebum would come and get him, quite some time ago if he’s being honest with himself, because holding on to the hope just hurt,  and not knowing anything about his boyfriends location makes him useless. but he’s not stalling the other either, enough overheard hushed calls leave him with the knowledge blue eyes managed to catch a few pawns, a few unimportant young guys delivering weapons and drugs for money, kids that didn’t know anything but were ready to throw their lives away for a man that promised them a home.

 

youngjae feels a kind of empty that makes him feel sick at the thought that jaebum has these kids ready at his hand, deceiving them into doing the dirty work for him while he stays hidden, can’t match up the info with the picture of im jaebum that he has in his head, in his heart. the jaebum he knew was gentle and kind, a warm core hidden underneath a thick, strong layer of cold exterior. he worried about his friends, took care, ready to take the blow if only his loved ones didn’t get hurt. he was passionate, sweeping youngjae off his feet both literally and figuratively when it had become clear their feelings were mutual. liked to bicker with jinyoung, his best friend for years, teasing comments flying around like birds, but it was always clear the duo meant no harm.  the jaebum he knew didn’t take in kids from the streets with the promise of a home and a family and then used them as cannon fodder. didn’t smuggle weapons, didn’t sell drugs, didn’t lead one of the deadliest groups of organized criminals seoul had.

 

youngjaes thoughts drift further while his host steps away, taking a call from the phone his assistant was holding for him. the gun hangs loosely in his fingers, and youngjae wonders what face the other man would make if youngjae asked him to just shoot him.

 

jinyoung would be horrified to hear youngjae right now, would be scolding him mercilessly, would pull the younger boy's head against his chest and whisper at him to never think such stupid stuff, ever. but jinyoung, one of youngjaes coworkers, an internist in the hospital where youngjae works - or worked? youngjae isn’t sure if he wants to think about all of his life in past tense already - as a pediatrician, is not here, will probably never see him again. it was jinyoung who introduced youngjae and jaebum all these months ago, bringing the younger doctor along to a dinner his friends were having. youngjae remembers feeling  odd, like an intruder, but jaebum, after a quick talk with jinyoung, had tried his best to make youngjae feel comfortable, and the other guys as well did what they could to include youngjae as much as possible.

 

youngjae wonders if he’s allowed to be angry at jinyoung, bites his lip, opens an old wound and draws new blood and decides he’s not. jinyoung warned him often enough not to get too caught up with jaebum, after all. but youngjae choose to ignore him in his infatuation with mysterious jaebum, jaebum who was so different from everyone youngjae usually spent his time with, jaebum who stepped into his world and turned it upside down and left youngjae breathless, jaebum who treated him like youngjae was the damn best thing in the whole fucking world.

 

and youngjae had loved it, had enjoyed himself enough to ignore all the signs that jaebum wasn’t normal, wasn't safe, shouldn’t be trusted, that youngjae should leave. youngjae had loved jaebum and how jaebum made him feel.

 

he stayed, and now he had to deal with the most likely deadly consequences.

 

his host returns to him, stopping youngjaes train of thoughts, throwing his expensive looking smartphone over his shoulder at youngjaes guard who stumbles forward to catch the device, nearly trips, catches himself. glares when youngjae grins. his host is grinning as well.

 

“it seems we found him, without your help. his men tried to take over our shipment. they did it, but we got their trail. this, my sweet boy, means we have absolutely zero use for you anymore, but rest assured, you were entertaining enough, choi youngjae, but now, excuse me, i have an appointment with your boyfriend.” he chuckles dryly, tilting his head to the side and giving youngjae a long, hard look. “ well. ex boyfriend.”

 

with that, he raises his arm, points the gun at youngjae once more, and fires.

 

youngjae is coherent enough to count three shots,every single one hitting his torso. he doesn’t even feel the pain, just feels his breath leave him in a choked gasp, feels his body sagging forward in an useless attempt to shield itself away from the attacker. the other guy fires another aimless bullet, hitting the concrete between youngjaes feet and severing the cable binder and youngjae would chuckle about the irony of being given a chance to flee now that he isn’t able to anymore if not every breath would burn like fire in his lungs. the gun hits the floor when the man drops it somewhere as he leaves, taking the big guy along.

 

halfway to the door, the man turns around, letting his gaze sweep over youngjaes gasping form once more.

 

“a pity. you’re such a pretty boy, if only we had met differently, i would have considered making you mine. chalk this up to jaebum. after all, it’s all his fault, isn’t it? i’ll tell him your greetings, youngjae.”

 

he can hear the door scrap over the sandy ground, the long, drawn out noise as it slides shut between the men, closing youngjae off from the world for the last time as they leave him.

 

leaving youngjae alone in the big, dusty hall as he feels his life seep out of him with every drop of blood he loses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> from the looks of it, there will be a third chapter for sure, but the possibility of a fourth chapter is there as well. we'll see on what i'm gonna write bc i free-style wing this as i go, lmao.


	3. 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am so, so, so sorry this took me so long. i've been busy like crazy with graduation ceremony, family visits and work, and the meanest big writer's block i've had in long. so now, sadly, this is more of a filler chapter, just so y'all don't run away bc i don't ever update ;;;; i'm not exactly happy, it's not bad (also not incredibly long), but not where i wanted to be at the end of chapter 3 :/ but anyway. a bit experimental.
> 
> the biggest of thanks to [gaya](http://archiveofourown.org/users/etherealrain) because without this wonderful person i probably wouldn't even be writing anymore.

when jaebum had met youngjae, it was as if heavens had opened up and shone their godly light on him and a choir of angels sung some otherworldly song whenever the younger man opened his mouth, laughed, spoke, just breathed. jaebum was enthralled from the first second the boy stepped into the small shop, sharing a laugh over some secret laugh with jinyoung. but strangers are dangerous. strangers that jinyoung brought along are dangerous. so he pulls jinyoung to the side, ignores youngjae’s curious gaze. he is livid.

“are you sure you should be bringing him here?” he asks, incredulousness pressing his voice into a hiss, but he can’t help the pang of guilt that prods at him when he sees jinyoungs back make contact with the wall jaebum had pushed him against as soon as they were out of sight.

“so now you’re not only trying to control my life but also who i’m friends with?” jinyoung spats back, equally as angry as jaebum, crossing his arms in front of his ironed dress shirt and glaring at jaebum from under his black hair.

“i’m not-” jaebum tries to interfere, but jinyoung snorting stops him.

“you are. you can be glad i actually like jackson, that’s why i’m not kicking him out, you know i would. i don’t need a goddamn bodyguard, jaebum. i work at a hospital, as does youngjae, in case you wonder. he works in the pediatric ward. he’s sweet and friendly, a delight to be around, and i’ve been working with him for ages, he’s definitely no threat or a spy sent to undermine your work. ask jackson if you don’t believe me, he’s done a thorough search on the guy when i started spending time with him.”

jinyoung huffs and uncrosses his arms when jaebum does nothing but stare at him in silence for a few seconds after that, pushing past him and slinging an arm over youngjaes shoulder where the younger boy was still standing rather awkwardly in the middle of the room, fidgeting with the hem of his oversized sweater. youngjae jumps at the initial contact, but smiles brightly when he recognizes jinyoung, and jaebum nearly feels bad about his suspicions of the boy. he can feel his team’s eyes on him when he enters the room again, tension high in the air, but when he gives a small nod, everyone relaxes visibly, and bambam even asks youngjae to sit with him and yugyeom. jinyoung sends youngjae an encouraging smile, promising to take the seat on his other side, to which jackson whines, and youngjae laughs. the sound seems to make everyone in the room smile, even mark crackes a grin, and dinner flows effortlessly after that. 

everything does.

getting closer to youngjae comes as naturally to jaebum as breathing, like he’d always waited for youngjae to arrive and bring out all the best in him. he smiles more, laughs more, loves more, and everyone notices. they share, share lunch breaks, popcorn at the theater, long conversations at night, quick kisses before youngjae would hop off jaebums motorcycle. blankets, smiles, secrets they’d share, youngjae’s shampoo. he makes youngjae smile a sad smile when he tells him that he nearly had forgotten what living felt like, the first night youngjae stays over.

but as good as everything is at this point, jaebum can’t allow himself to indulge.

he’s forbidden everyone to involve youngjae in any of their business, had threatened to kill them should youngjae ever find out about what they were doing. he feels frantic, doesn’t want youngjae to know this side of him, this part of his life. the part that killed for a living, that sent this friends on missions from which they’d return covered in blood, that barked instructions into a headset and set off a fire in an apartment building with it. doesn’t need youngjae to know about the broken souls depending on him for their regular fix, doesn’t need him to know why there is no family in his life, doesn’t need him to know how he met yugyeom and bambam or where mark sometimes disappears to for days without a notice.

more than once he arrives at the hospital with a packed bag for youngjae in his hand, takes him on spontaneous trips to ‘relatives’ far out of the city, safe houses that constantly change. youngjae never complains, not once, about all the rules and strange wishes jaebum directs at him, and jaebum is thankful, so thankful youngjae doesn’t ask, but deep down he knows his mere existence is youngjaes life means danger for him. danger for the boy that is his sun, his moon and his stars, ever source of light in the endless night of his life. 

but he is happy, so happy, way to deep in love with youngjae to just let him go. 

and that is his mistake, his grave fault.

in his selfishness he accepts the possibility of youngjae, sweet youngjae who knows nothing, becoming the target of his enemies, accepts that they might try to get to jaebum through his boyfriend. accepts it, knows that it will happen one day. 

but it doesn’t matter, doesn’t matter when youngjae is in his arms right now and smiling at him like jaebum’s the best thing he has seen all week, doesn’t matter when jaebum can protect him. and he knows he will. he ruffles youngjaes hair, watches his smile morph into a open mouth gap, and a chuckle shakes them both. youngjae presses a kiss to the top of his nose and rolls off him, but jaebum throws his arms around the other’s middle and pulls him back on the couch before he can get far.

“don’t leave,” he murmurs, nose pressed tightly into the material of youngjaes soft, old sweater, smelling detergent and cologne and rain and grass and sun and just everything that makes up _youngjae._ a chuckle shakes the figure under his fingers, and a smile ghosts over jaebums face.

“everyone has to leave eventually, jaebum. everything ends at some point.” 

youngjaes voice sounds uncharacteristically flat, and jaebum frowns, feels his smile shatter and tries to lift his head to look at his boyfriend but finds he can’t. he feels cold, a sudden shiver of ice running down his whole body, leaving him breathless and suddenly, all his senses ring alarm. he tears his arms off youngjae, throws himself backwards into the cushions on the couch. for a brief second, he loses sight of youngjae, and cold panic threatens to pin him down until he manages to force himself into an upright position, breathing erratically. but youngjae isn’t standing in front of him like he should, and jaebum isn’t on the couch anymore. he turns, scanning his surroundings, but grey skies melt into grey grounds and he doesn’t manage to make out where he is. 

chokes out a shaky breath when he spots a body on the ground, a few feet away from him, crimson red pooling on the floor around it. the only source of color around. when he reaches out, there’s a gun between his fingers, one he doesn’t ever remember grabbing, and red stains his hands. he drops the weapon, another rasp leaving him when the metallic sound rings through the air, and takes an unsteady, wobbly step towards the figure on the ground that is wearing youngjaes favourite sweater. his limbs feel like lead, and his throat is tight in fear. he thinks of the gun, gaze trained on the figure, dread sinking into his very being. 

he hasn't shot anyone in years.

and still, somewhere inside of him he knows this death, the end of this existence, that it’s his fault and his alone. that his decisions in life have ended another innocent one. more than one, he knows, far more than one. but this person is different, holds significance. means something.

he knows every death should mean something to him. feels disgust for himself when he realizes he doesn’t feel sorry for them. but no matter how hard he tries, he can’t. there’s only one death he fears, only one death that would mean something to him.

breathing is a hassle and with every gulp of air he inhales, he feels as if a wave of water washes down his throat and fills his lungs, while his feet feel as if they’re stuck in lead. the body is so close, yet so far away, and no matter how often he calls, a thick, deafening silence swallows every sound. he can’t reach out, can’t reach the person, and desperation is the only thing holding him upright at this point. the urgent need to make sure the body doesn’t belong to whom he fears it does, to make sure it wasn’t him who pulled the trigger.

tired. he feels tired, every step another fight against the unnatural gravity weighing him down. tired, from the stillness laying on his ears. tired, from the guilt hanging over his head and sitting on his shoulders. he feels his knees go weak, knows he’s falling.

“we found youngjae.”

he never hits the ground. everything turns black, and then white. he opens his eyes.

mark.

“we found him.”

the dread settles in his body again, and he can’t breathe, can’t speak. does it anyway, and remembers the weight of the gun in his hand and the red, warm blood sticking to it and the body he couldn’t reach, so close yet so far away. swallows hard and ignores how pale mark is and that yugyeom and jackson stand behind him, both not supposed to be here.

“let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you made it. yikes, right? anyway, i hope to get the next chapter out soon, but i have work and i'll be away in the second week of august for three days for monsta x in berlin. hmu on [twitter](https://twitter.com/glitterY0UNGJAE) if you want some youngjae content on your dash or just talk. or. idk. yell at me.


	4. 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heeeey so i did not actually abandon this, here is the second to last chapter, next chapter will be the wrap up.  
> i didnt prove-read this and as always theres no editor involved, my writing is as inconsistent and bad as always but lmao what fucking ever. if you spot any mistakes kindly let me know, i will fix them and thank you, if you want to leave me any feedback that would be cool, hmu here or on twitter [here](https://twitter.com/glitterY0UNGJAE)

it's dawn, the beginning of a new day calling out in its voice of peach and gold and orange that brushes across the sky and tints the world in rosy, warm colors, and for the first time in months, youngjae can see it. for how tired he is, tired enough that he can’t even feel his body, he knows he’s smiling, and the temptation to close his eyes and just feel the light wash over him and warm his face is nearly big enough to overpower his thirst for colors. but he can’t, can’t and won’t allow himself to look away from the most beautiful thing he’s seen his whole life. won’t look away from the softest pastel colors washing into each other like chalk on a street in the rain, flowing and dancing and painting pictures into the sky. he’s always loved sunrises, but he feels like until now, he’s never appreciated them enough, never realized just how breathtaking the sky and its crescendo of colors could be - until he’s seeing it for the last time.

 

he draws a stuttery breath, blinks slowly. fears, somewhere deep in his heart, that he won’t be able to open his eyes again, but then the pink is back, even pressing the pain that is holding him and squeezing all the oxygen out of his body into a corner of his being. he’s content just laying on the ground, the fresh morning air in his nose and the rising sun above his head instead of the old, rusty roof of the old hangar. he doesn’t know, doesn’t care how he made it outside, where he took the strength from for his wobbly, weak legs to push him off the chair and carry his broken, injured body through the half open door and into the field. he doesn’t even know where he is, doesn’t know the day or month, not even the time, but nothing matters. he’s alive, for the moment, and that is more than he imagined being an hour ago. more than he wished for, if he’s being honest with himself, but now that he can see the beginning of a new day, dawn creeping in and lighting up the world after a long night, he’s happy he’s still alive.

 

there’s a particularly big stone digging into his back, but even the stinging sensation is welcome, reminds him that he can still feel his body. but the slowly rising sun hurts his eyes, and he’s tired, so tired, wants nothing more than to close his eyes and sleep and let the gold wash over him and swallow him whole. he feels warm, and his eyes slip close as the first sounds of the world around him waking from it’s daze reaches his ears. it’s loud all of sudden, and he’s glad his ears are swimming so he can enjoy these last few minutes of peace before reality will crash into him and swallow him whole.

 

~*~

 

when bambam calls him, jinyoungs heart makes a leap into his throat, and then comes to a complete stop when he manages to catch the sobbed words over bambams erratic breathing. his foot comes down on the brake in an instant, the tires screeching over the dry pavement and the front of his car coming too close to the crash barrier when it veers to the side.

 

“it's youngjae, it has to be him, i found him, he has to be there. that finnish asshole left the building with blood on his hands and his bodyguard, but no one else came out. i’m on my way there, jinyoung, what if it's really him-”

 

“bambam,” jinyoung interrupts, his voice sharp and clear and the complete opposite of how he feels inside, tasting bitter gall on his tongue and dread settled so deep in his stomach he's sure he going to throw up any given second. his fingers tighten around the steering wheel, knuckles stark white against the black ground. the force makes the leather crack, an ugly sound too loud in the silent car before another sob of bambam, static and metallic through the speakers and so completely wrong, cackles through the air, louder than jinyoungs shaky exhale.

 

“where are you? send me the location, i’ll be there as fast as i can. and whatever you do, don't tell jaebum. not yet at least. he's not going to be helpful. i’ll tell him once I'm sure about youngjaes state, do you hear me?”

 

his voice comes out curt, cut off, pressed out between his clenched teeth, but not a second later the small peeping noise of his phone tells him bambam has send him a message, and ever so slowly, he pries his fingers off the steering wheel. he’s shaking, more than he would like to admit, when his thumb presses softly on the cold glass to unlock the device, and the sudden bright glare of the screen has him blink.

 

he’s not even far away, it’s a few streets down, and the realization makes him hold his breath. he’s still only a block away from the hospital, and the fact that youngjae has been so close, within distance of a few minutes walk, feels like a punch to the gut. bambam makes a concerned noise at his sharp gasp, but then he’s pushing open the door, feels the cold metal of the clasp of his safety belt against his fingertips and the fabric scraping against his neck, and he can’t get it of, struggles against the conception meant to keep him safe, the one that is now making him feel like he’s suffocating, and finally manages to push the button down. he half rolls out of the car, half falls, catches himself on his hands and heaves. there’s nothing in his stomach except the coffee he’s had for his midnight snack just a few hours ago, but now even the liquid feels like acid lead as it travels up his throat and finally makes contact with the dirty cement under him.

 

static rings in his ears, and bambams concerned voice nearly drowns in the sound of his pulse pumping like he just finished a marathon. he coughs and spits a last mouthful of coffee and salvia on the pavement, wiping the sleeve of his entirely too expensive shirt over his mouth. it's not like he cares. his fingers feel weak when he reaches inside his car, using the steering wheel to haul himself into the vehicle again, and he only notices the scraps on his hands when he pulls the door shut behind him with shaking hands.

 

“sorry, bam. i’m okay. sorry.”

 

bambam makes a sound, half laughing, half huffing, clearly to show how little he believes jinyoung, but jinyoung continues talking, turning on the engine, grazing the seatbelt but deciding to skip it in memory of the last few minutes. who knows, he might have to jump out of the car like that again soon. bambam somehow manages to slide in another concerned noise before he inhales sharply and jinyoung hears the telltale screeching, metallic sound of brakes, rubber screaming as a loud honk cackles through the line and bambam let's out a string of thai curses jinyoung could never, not even in his wildest dreams, attempt to repeat.

 

“you in the car?” he asks, temporarily distracted by navigating his own car away from the barrier in the middle of the road, the one his fate had been so insistent he meet earlier today. a few grunts and rustling answer him, before he gets a curd “asshole’s cut me off. sorry, hyung. how long do you think you'll take to get there?”

 

he sounds restless, breathy, pressed, the tone reserved for the sadly not so rare occasions a mission goes downhill and he works his brain five different directions at once to get his team out of the situation, the tone jinyoung only knows from the recordings bambam creates because he fears he'll miss something important, something that could make or break the missions, the tiniest details, if he can't recap everything at will. jinyoung agrees that the human ability to remember important details is fickle at most when it's needed the most.

 

“about a minute, maybe two. which car do you have?”

 

“the van. i was out scouting when i got the signal, I probably didn't even pack all my equipment when I left.”

 

“doesn't matter, we'll get you new stuff if something is missing. clear the backseat and keep the car ready, you'll drive.”

 

bambam still makes some kind of confirming noise before the line cuts off, but jinyoung isn't sure, doesn't and can't care when he's currently speeding into the old green patch, dust flying from where his tires spin and can't fully grip on the dusty path because of the speed he's forcing his car into the turn with.

 

it's an old property the city once wanted to build a park on, an old factory ground that burned down and left nothing but the big production hall. somehow, the deal never came to live and the park never got build, and gradually, everything grew to be hidden from the prying eyes of the world by a curtain of branches and evergreen leaves. they'd checked, but nobody had been here. not back then, at least. jinyoung feels a shiver run down his spine when he thinks about how lost youngjae must have felt, what they must have put him through.

 

he has troubles concentrating on the small road in front of him while he digs in the passenger footwell for his bag, cursing whenever the car rolls over big stones and shakes so much it disrupts his search. when the path finally gets to rough to use a car anymore, at least not his low sports car, he abandons it, all but jumps out and leaves the door wide open and the key in the lock and feels glad he didn't buckle up again. his medical kit presses against his chest with a force that nearly hurts, that stings in his torso and arms and keeps him up on his toes. eyes jumping over his surroundings so quick that he can barely catch anything that isn't big enough to be a human, he hurries along the dirty, windy road and hopes somewhere in the back of his mind bambam doesn't crash the van into his car.

 

with every step he takes that silence greets him and nothing happens jinyoung gets more and more tense, jumps at every leaf crunching and breaking under the soles of his shoes, every twig snapping in half, every rustle of the trees above his head setting him on edge. the night shift he just finished leaves him tired and irritable, and it's starting to show he's only had a coffee that he threw up on the street again. he feels nauseous and weak, and he isn't even certain he could help youngjae at all in his current state. a gust of wind sets the fresh green leaves around him into motion again, and his sigh gets lost in the air.

 

he's close to giving up on his search and all his hopes when he catches sight of dirty, cold grey between the green instead of blue, and all his senses spring into action at once, and his breathing hitches. youngjae has to be around the building or inside, and jinyoung stumbles over the uneven ground when he turns suddenly and speeds up at the same time, his long legs tangling up for a moment and sending him tumbling. bag clutched close with one hand he pushes away the plants with the other, feels them open up the scraps from earlier, and suddenly, he's out of the foliage. there's a clearing in front of him, patches of grass strewn about the dirty ground, on the other side bordered by the old factory building. jinyoung breathes in when he catches sight of something red in the grass, a few feet away from the rusty doors.

 

finding youngjae is a bit like opening the blinds after a sudden storm forced you to hide behind thick wood and cold stone, a storm tinting the air black and heavy and full of bad feelings. it's like suddenly feeling the sun on your face and seeing the colors painted on the clouds, more beautiful and vivid than any artwork could ever be. breathing in the fresh, icy air and feeling free, but at the same time tasting terror on your tongue at the aftermath of the storm, feeling small and powerless at the sight of trees and streets and fields and houses destroyed. jinyoung can't even fully describe his feelings as his knees give in under him and he stumbles to fall at youngjaes side, a trillion words stuck in his throat, but all he can get out is a choked sound.

 

" _youngjae_."

 

there's a sting in his eyes and he tries his hardest, rings with himself not to cry. he's a doctor, a professional, he's seen dead and dying people a thousand, if not a million times. he reaches for youngjaes hands, cuffed together by cable binders, holds them between his hand and feels sick to the stomach about how cold and frail they feel in his. the dried blood around youngjaes nose and his temple makes him look so pale, and jinyoung feels like throwing up again. but when youngjaes eyes flutter open just the tiniest bit, lashes parting, and jinyoung can watch the other slowly train his eyes on him, can see him move and take in a slowly, unsteady breath, alive, if just barely, a sob wrecks him and he lets out a sound he didn't even know he could produce as his body curls inward. sobs shake him as his forehead softly bumps against youngjaes chest. faint pressure on his finger from where he's cradling youngjaes hands makes jinyoung lift his head up again, and youngjae smiles at him, not more than a tired tremor to the corner of his lip and nothing compared to the wide, thrown back head and wide opened mouth laugh jinyoung is used to, but the minimal motion is enough to shake him to the core.  


"it's not your fault," he catches youngjae whisper, and suddenly his head is empty.

 

he feels lost, like a child left alone in the park again, and he only realizes at all he's crying when his tears leave dark spots on youngjaes dirty and torn shirt.

 

with terror on his mind he watches as youngjaes eyes fall close again, and his heart seems to skip a beat when youngjae lets loose on his hand. his own fly to his bag, fingers struggling to open the clasp, and then he’s pulling out all types of bandages and disinfection material at once, unprofessional like he’s last been before he started going to medical school, most of it landing on the floor next to him and youngjaes pale, limp body, turning useless, much like jinyoung feels at this moment. but as his eyes scan over youngjaes form, taking in all the blood, so much blood everywhere, his brain finally clicks, and he’s back in the emergency room, the person in front of him nothing more than a name on paper and the rest of life clinging on to it’s beaten shell. he pushes all thoughts about his friend away and lets the doctor in him come forth.

 

his fingers, mere seconds ago shaking, now calm, scan youngjaes body the best he can, feeling for fresh wounds through the material of his shirt, and as much as he tries to suppress it, every time his skin makes contact with warm or still liquid blood, he flinches a bit. there’s a bullet wound on youngjaes thigh, just short of hitting the main artery. another one he finds in youngjaes side, there’s one in his shoulder, and the worst one, the one that’s causing the most bleeding, hit his ribcage, just right under where his right elbow is resting. jinyoung can’t tell if any internal organs were hurt, but it seems it didn’t hit his lung, or the heart. even if it’s weak and unsteady, youngjae has a pulse, and he breathes, and jinyoung can’t ask or even hope for more at the moment.

 

“hey, youngjae. please, you need to stay awake.”

 

his own voice sounds metallic to his ears, wrong. too calm, too collected. he should sound more shaken, he knows, but he also knows he can’t allow himself too. not right now.

 

“youngjae, you know how crucial it is that you stay awake. talk to me. please.”

 

finally there's a little desperation in his voice, he can't help it, he feels glad. it's too hard to get youngjae out of his old sweater without any help or instruments to assist him, he doesn't even have scissors in his bag. so he pushes it up as far as he can and inhales sharply at the sight of his friend's body.

 

besides the bullet wounds, there's a sheer endless amount of scraps and badly healed scars all over the skin. he can't even tell what some of them were caused by. there's small, round wounds, probably cigarette butts pressed into the skin. long, bulging scars that are probably infected cuts. long, big red strips of skin, abrasions, jinyoung guesses and feels sick again. a myriad of the telltale small, angry red dots syringes leave, all over. wounds he can't even begin to identify between the others. so many injuries, old scraps, new scars, and everything is covered in a slick film of blood and dew.

 

as terrible as the thought feels, jinyoung begins to wonder if youngjae even wants to live anymore. if he even wants to be saved after all he’s had to go through, after everything that has been done to him simply because he fell in love with a dangerous man. after they’ve pushed him into hell and dragged him back out by the collar. after they’ve tortured him for months on end for - for what even? jinyoung can only imagine.

 

as his hands calmly do the work they’ve gotten used to over the years, cleaning, bandaging, applying whatever disinfectant he can get between his fingers, cutting away the frayed edges of wounds he hopes he can stitch properly later, his mind wanders and hopes for bambam to arrive soon, hopes they can be quick enough and save youngjae.

 

hopes he can save youngjae and give him the happy ending he deserves.

 

a cough from youngjae interrupts him, a cough that shakes the boy, makes him double over and then wince in pain. it’s a cue for jinyoung that he’s still alive, but now he worries, worries when he sees red specs on his friends lip, and the fear that there might be internal damage he can’t see that is killing his friend right under his hands, right as he is trying to save him, sends a surge of panic through him. he curses himself for leaving his phone in his car, curses his forgetfulness, curses bambam for still not having arrived. curses the universe, jaebum, the man who did all this to youngjae, jaebum, again. even if he knows it’s not jaebums fault, not really. but it feels good to be angry at someone, someone else, not himself, not youngjae. anyone. jaebum.

 

loud breathing, leaves crunching and bambams voice behind him pressing out a small curse word in thai that jinyoung doesn’t know nearly feels like relief. like a boulder of guilt lifting from his shoulders. bambam stumbles on the uneven ground, nearly crashes into him, puts a hand on jinyoungs shoulder and steadies himself. he looks pale, terribly so, jinyoung notes, but guesses he doesn’t look any better.

 

“I'll take his legs, but be careful, he has bullet wounds in the side and lower ripcage. try to not put much strain on that. you grab his torso and we’ll bring him to the van, than to the hospital.”

 

he's surprised with himself how calm he sounds, nearly bored.

 

bambam, on the other hand, is shaking, clearly distressed to the bone, but that’s something jinyoung can care about another time. right now his goal is to keep youngjae alive, somehow. at any cost.

 

they nearly fall over when they try to hoist youngjae up. the boy is light, way lighter than jinyoung remembers him being, and they use way too much force to lift him, half expecting a healthy weighed body with their absent minds. but that’s not it alone. jinyoungs knees feel weak all of sudden, and he curses as he stumbles, his grip on youngjae slipping and a feeling of cold ice rushing through his heart. the other boys both wince, and jinyoung scuries to readjust his hold on his patient.

 

they make it to the van without any more problems.

 

youngjaes breathing is more gone than noticeable by the time bambam manages to slide the door open with his elbow, awkwardly climbs inside and lays youngjaes head to rest on his lap while jinyoung does a quick check of his vitals. pulse is there, but weak, breathing flat, wounds still bleeding. as he closes the door, it tears him apart inside, looking back at youngjae and seeing the pain force his face into grimasses. knowing he’s had to endure this for so long.

 

he shuts the door with more force than necessary and slides into the driver’s seat, not bothering with the seatbelt and forcing the car into reverse. his fingers hover over bambams phone on the seat next to him before he throws it back to bam.

 

he doesn’t know the code anyway.

 

“call the hospital. let them know we’re coming. tell them to prepare the OR. several shot wounds, possibility of internal bleeding. pulse weak, but stable, breathing nearly declined and flat.”

 

he hears bambam repeat his words into the microphone of his phone, and veers backwards into the street.

 

the streetlight is red, but he doesn’t stop.

 

it’s not like anyone will attempt to prosecute him, with one of the most powerful and fearsome gangster bosses in his back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao usually i care more about my fics and writing nicer notes but my life is falling apart and im channeling all my stress and hurt while writing this so i guess i dont have any energy left to write nice notes.


	5. 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh well I had a rush and typed 1,2k of this in one go and then the spirits of writing just left me but here we are again folks~ I'm getting my own apartment and this chapter only took one month~ even less~ i dont like it but thats a different story
> 
> please vote in this poll~ it's related to this story haha  
> [ click here~ ](https://twitter.com/glitterY0UNGJAE/status/984923846686978049?s=19)

it takes the combined strength of jackson, mark and two hospital security guards to keep jaebum from kicking down the doors to the OR in order to get to youngjae.

 

he waltzes in like a dark, dangerous storm, slams the doors and runs into people without even bothering to stop and apologize, fury and destruction and endless relentless angry energy in its wake. jinyoung jumps from his plastic seat placed across the doors when the cluster of people comes close; jaebum and all these people trying to stop him.

 

his jeans stick to his legs and the chair uncomfortably, and despite his boneless weariness, jinyoungs senses feel weirdly sharpened. he hears the weird, ripping sound when he separates himself from the sweat sticky plastic, smells fire on jaebum, sees patches of dark red on marks black jacket, nearly invisible, notices the gash on jacksons cheek. feels the furor in jaebum and the desperation in his subordinates and nothing in himself.

 

time seems to slow down when jaebum locks eyes with him, pupils widening at the sight of his friend, the emergency surgeon, not in there helping youngjae, and a different type of anger falls over him, the lines of his face twisting with what jinyoung can only call hurt and betrayal. he trashes against the lock the guards and jackson have on him, hissing some obscenity that would have his mother flare red in shame, turns his ankle wrong and sags a little under the sudden pain.

 

all of this jinyoung notices nearly calmly while he makes his way to jaebum, just a couple of steps across the linoleum tiled floor, lit grossly bright by the neon tube on the ceiling above them, and just as mark and one guard move from their position in front of the gang leader, jinyoung takes aim and swings at his best friend.

 

the satisfaction he feels when his knuckles connect with the skin of jaebums face is far enough to drown out the pain of hitting bone. the twisted, wrong joy that soars through him when he hears a crunching sound and sees the blood on jaebums nose and lip makes him feel both sick and agitated. 

 

mark jumps backwards in surprise, and the guard and jackson still holding on to jaebum stumble back with him against the white, cold wall. jinyoung takes another hit at jaebum, smearing red blood on his too white knuckles before they tear open and start to bleed on their own. jinyoung uses the movement from his swing and converts it into a spinning kick right to his friends chest. watches him crumble to the ground, hissing from pain as he looks up at jinyoung, surprised and hurt and so, so confused. another satisfying cracking sound makes jinyoungs lips press small. he stops for a second and wipes his hand on his shirt.

 

jackson hovers awkwardly but on edge next to them, loosely holding jaebums shoulder, his gaze shifting between the man he owes his life, and the one he promised the rest of it to. mark stands next to jinyoung, a pale hand dancing over his shoulder, the other on his gun, safely hidden by the view of others by his enormous jacket and shirt. mark had always had a habit of dressing in clothes approximately three sizes too big for him, but it made the whole smuggling and hiding deal a lot easier, jinyoung muses. jackson is unarmed and seems painfully aware of that fact when he looks at the way jinyoung looms over his friend, his best friend, his brother in mind - his boss. but he does well without weapons too. all he needs is his body. jinyoung knows this all too well. 

 

tension makes all his muscles burn, and his knuckles hurt incredibly.

 

jaebum moves first, getting to his feet slowly while never moving the sharp gaze that is trained on jinyoung, watching out for another sudden attack. he coughs and spits out blood. it hits the linoleum with an ugly sounding splattering noise, red on white. 

 

“what the  _ fuck _ , jinyoung?” jaebum presses out, curt and rigid and so incredibly angry he can barely form words.

 

jinyoung just continues looking at him, fire raging in his eyes, and jackson makes a worried noise just when jaebum lunges at who was supposed to be his right hand. but jinyoung is expecting it, parries the fist jaebum had struck at him, rolls his body along his friends form, and jaebum takes an elbow to the back. 

 

he curses and stumbles, catching himself against the ugly plastic chairs that scrape over the tile with a terrible sound, and turns around to find himself up close with the muzzle of his own gun. pointed directly at his face by jinyoung, who grabbed it a mere second ago during the self defense move he learned from jackson. jaebums face looks blank all of sudden, all the raging fury possessing him just seconds ago in jinyoungs heated gaze. he slowly raises his hand, but jinyoung just squints, watches as jaebum swipes his thumb across his lip and flicks the blood off it.

 

jackson and mark are saying something, jinyoung registers somewhere in the back of his mind. he doesn't hear it and knows it could be important, that he should listen, but he can't and doesn't want to bring himself to care. his hand throbs. his heart beats a million miles an hour and the pumping sound of rushing blood in his ears is canceling out everything else. all he sees is jaebum, the pitiful creature that he thought was his best friend. jaebum, who had taken so many wrong turns in his life that jinyoung had always tried to compensate by being there for his friend. jaebum, who left the only pure existence, the only happiness in his life to be tainted, wither and die a terrible, gruesome death. looks at him and resents him and wonders if this is it. if this is how youngjae felt back there in the old factory hall, would feel if he was able to feel anything right now. his hand doesn't shake when he pulls the slide back, but the audible gasp from jackson grabs his attention for a split second. there's pure horror on his face as he watches jinyoung, and he's as pale as jinyoung has never seen his lover before. he wants to care and be the warm, comforting presence jackson knows, but right now his blood is boiling too high, and he has other things in mind. 

 

jaebum looks at him in a way jinyoung can't describe. disappointment, betrayal, hurt, anger, tiredness, probably more. jinyoung doesn't know and doesn't want to bother. but it fills him with bitter content, brings his point across.

 

“take a close look at all that you are feeling right now. all the betrayal and hurt. this is nothing compared to what youngjae must have felt, holed up in that moldy excuse of a building, his blood painting the floor and all the utensils they used on him scarlet red. i have seen him, jaebum. i have seen the blood on the floor. i have seen him and can only guess what they have done to him. tortured him, starved him, i don't even want to think about it. i can't even begin to imagine all the pain he went through for you. for you. who left him in there, for months. left him there to suffer simply because he loved you. i hate myself for dragging him into this. i hate you more for making someone so precious to me suffer by involving him enough to be of use for your enemies, but never enough that he knew what was going on to protect himself. he didn't know anything. he died for what? nothing. he loved a nothing and died for nothing.”

 

he slowly tilts his head to the side and watches jaebum, nearly a bored look on his face, who had first gone red and then a pale, ghostly white.

 

“you won't need to wait for elias to show up after he finally manages to pick a trail on you. i will kill you right here, right now. and it will be my pleasure.”

 

the small click of the safety echoes loudly through the white, white hall, bouncing between the plastic floor and the plastic ceiling until jinyoung feels as if the sound has multiplied by millions. jackson screams something at his face as he readjusts his aim, throws his body forward. for a second jinyoung fears he might hit the wrong person, the only person fate left him to love, and feels as if ice water is suddenly rushing through his body. he also feels the way mark pushes against his shoulder, tries to move the nuzzle from jaebum, but jinyoung pulls the trigger before any of them can get his focus off jaebum.

 

the shot rings in his ears, the backlash hurts in his shoulder. jinyoung drops the gun while jackson pulls him away and mark scurries to pick up the weapon as even more medical staff rush to the scene. 

 

jinyoung can't avert his eyes from the empty but angry gaze jaebum keeps trained on him as jackson tugs him along and people start to crowd the person he used to call his best friend.

 

red spreads on the white floor like a blooming flower.

 

jaebum yells out his name as they hoist him on a stretcher, careful not to put more strain on the wound in his thigh, but the doors fall shut behind jinyoung, mark and jackson, and they are gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always if you catch mistakes or just wanna chat leave me a comment, I'll reply within one day GUARANTEED, and if you wanna chat just hmu at [on twitter](https://twitter.com/glitterY0UNGJAE?s=09)


	6. 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm a terrible author, I'm sorry. yall gonna hate me  
> also I have six whole attempts for this chapter pls kill me

moonlight colors their room black and silver, pale blue, a ghostly hue that for some reason unsettles jinyoung deep inside, down to his core. jackson is perched across from him, half sitting on the messy covers, half off the bed, looking ready to balk any chance he gets. jinyoung wants to reach out, grab him and force him to stay, stay with jinyoung. stay together. the unsure feeling in him makes him flinch at ever sudden move jackson makes. it's torture. the silence that hangs over them feels suffocating, like a sphere of glass ready to burst and break at the slightest touch, movement, word. jinyoung feels trapped in time, suspended in nothingness, while the only sound is their breathing and the clock ticking on the bedside table.

 

when jackson inhales, jinyoung snaps to attention immediately. there's something in jacksons eyes, something deep, sad, that jinyoung can't even begin to describe, much less understand. it sets him even more on edge, and his whole body is tense while he waits for jackson to speak, hands rung tightly into each other in his lap.

 

"this…” jackson swallows heavily, averts his eyes, pulls a shaking hand through his already unruly, back hair. jinyoung absentmindedly wonders what he is referring to. shots back to attention when jackson pins his gaze on him again. “this is what happens, this is why we can't get attached. never. this is what could happen to  _ us _ any day, any minute. this is my fear every time i take my eyes off you. this is what jaebum was afraid of, why he sent me to watch you in the first place. i never- i should never have gotten attached to you, there should have never been love. you should have been a job like any other. protecting someone close to my boss. as dangerous as that is on it's own, jaebum shouldn't be liking you either. look at what feelings and attachment did to jb. look how it tears him into pieces deep inside every waking and sleeping second, look how he's dying inside. look at how guilty you feel. look at how mark, bambam, yugyeom all slowly wither away, a little more every day. because we liked him, learned to love him as family and more, loved youngjae, something that shouldn't have happened. never. you get attached, and someone that hates you finds out, and takes the only person you love and uses them against you, breaks them into pieces right in front of your eyes. and then hands you back the empty shell and laughs into your face while you try to resemble the pieces before it's too late, before they're gone too far, before the ice of death takes them and leaves you feeling shattered inside. this is what i fear they'll do to you. i’m not strong enough to protect you, to protect us. i’m afraid they'll take you too, and selfishly happy it's been youngjae, not you. can you imagine? i’m happy it was him, not you. the guilt kills me.”

 

jackson’s voice trembles and the wet traces of tears in his face make jinyoung want to reach out, but he can't, his arms frozen on his side, hands deadweight in his lap.

 

“love is certain death in our world, and i don't know what to do,” jackson whispers, burying his face in his hands. jinyoung has never seen him so broken. his mind is going a thousand thoughts a second, but objectively, he can't understand what jackson is getting at. doesn't want to understand. why is he telling him all of this? they know, know how dangerous the world they are living in is. know the dangers of love, never mentioned them but knew all the same. ignored them and enjoyed the sweet blossoming happiness their mutual feelings allowed them to have, a bright spot in the darkness that is their business. were happy despite or maybe because of all the odds against them. he cant wrap his mind around jacksons words, the meaning behind his tears.

 

but buried under confusion and denial jinyoung knows. knows what jackson is going to say next. but he doesn't want to, doesn't want to listen to jacksons words and have to answer and agree and pretend they're doing the right thing when all he wants is to keep him close, in his arms, in his world, in his heart. doesn't want to have to pretend he isn't dying inside while jackson walks out the door to save his life. but dread sits heavy on his tongue like lead, weighing his words down. seals them in the back of his throat while jackson changes the course of their lives forever right in front of his eyes while jinyoung can't do anything but watch on, hands clasped in his lap and heart ready to jump out of his chest.

 

“i don't know what to do, jinyoung,” jackson whispers from behind his hands, head hanging low. “i dont know what to do, i’m scared, and i’m hurting - we all are. it's too much. i feel like i haven’t breathed since the funeral.”

 

a sob makes his shoulder jump, and jinyoungs heart breaks at the sight. 

 

jackson stays like that, crying, hands over his face, dull. unkempt hair all over the place because he hasn't been taking care of it lately. the clock ticks on, the sound only making jinyoung more nervous.

 

“i’m leaving korea,” jackson finally breathes out, voice tight and too quiet. hadn't jinyoungs whole attention been on him, he might have missed it. words, lost in the dark of the night. now, jinyoung himself feels lost. he had been expecting something, anything, but not like this. not this radical. not this far. not like this, not this sudden, not without him. 

 

“jackson,” he chokes out, but jackson presses the palms of his hands on his ears. 

 

how childish.

 

“i’m leaving jaebum, and i’m leaving korea. i can't stay here anymore after what happened, after youngjae. i thought I was stronger than this, but it seems i’m weak, and scared, and i’d rather run. i’m so sorry jinyoung. you know how much i love you. you know you will own my heart always. you'll always be my stars. but i can't do it, cant keep working for jaebum after what happened.”

 

his voice nearly somersaults over how fast he's trying to get the words out, shying away from every touch of jinyoung like a child playing tag.

 

jinyoung feels like he'll suffocate. his hands, trying to reach jackson, trying to hold him, make him stay, fall, come to rest next to him and then on his face, wiping away hot, burning tears, smearing them across his face, but they won't stop, wont cease. his cheeks start to feel sensitive from friction, but he keeps rubbing, sees stars from the pressure on his eyes, tries to hold in a sob and fails. there's faint pressure on his head, he realizes that jackson is cradling his head between his hands before a kiss is being pressed to the crown of his head. jinyoung attempts to hold him, catch his hands, but he's too slow, or maybe jackson is too fast, and he only grasps at air, fingers closing around nothing, opening and grabbing again as if he could summon jackson by trying to hold him just often enough when he clearly hears the front door close one last time behind his love, his pillar, his strength, his moon and his happiness. and jinyoung gives up trying to look composed, curls up on the covers still smelling like jackson, and screams. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

he shouldn't be driving with tears in his eyes, keeps straying too close to other cars for comfort, but his flight, he can't miss his flight. jackson grips the steering wheel harder, tries to tell himself he's doing the right thing, the only right thing, by leaving jinyoung, leaving jaebum, leaving this whole world behind him. leaving and not looking back.

 

“jackson?” a soft voice asks from the passenger seat, and jackson furiously runs his sleeve over his eyes, trying to pull up a smile, but it turns into a grimace.

 

“you don't have to pretend to be okay. it's fine.”

 

jackson tries to nonchalantly shrug, but it only turns into more crying. 

 

they're silent for the rest of the drive to the airport, the only sound jacksons phone blowing up with calls and texts from jinyoung.

 

jaebum had given him a private jet to leave. jackson tried to refuse, loudly, but his now former boss had been adamant. so now he finds himself lifting the only bag left out of the trunk of his car, watching the machine in front of him. 

 

“hong kong?” the pilote standing in front of the door asks him as they board, and he can only nod. nod and seal his fate and lock this part of his life in the past, permanently. the good, the bad, the connections, the love, the pain. jinyoung.

 

an hour later, they're in the air, headed towards his birthplace, his hometown, the place the story of jackson wang began. he sighs. 

 

“you okay? nothing's hurting?” he asks and looks up. a meek smile tugs at his lips. “ready for a new start far away from everyone trying to kill you? sorry that you'll be stuck with me.”

 

youngjae shakes his head, adjusting a few bandages through his shirt. 

 

“none of the physical ones,” he murmurs, bites his lip and exhales shakily. smiles, lopsided, tired, but alive, all jackson cares about and will care about for as long as he shall live.

 

“i’m ready."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> maybe I'll add an epilogue  
> honestly idk this fic is a monster but it did help me to get my frustration out somehow instead of taking it out on my body so yay I guess. also thank u all for sticking with me thru the however long I actually took haha I dont even wanna know.  
> yell at me [on Twitter ?](https://twitter.com/glitterY0UNGJAE?s=09) or [cc?](https://curiouscat.me/glitterY0UNGJAE)


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